Cats oneshots
by Arixa23
Summary: A collection of all the Cats short oneshots and drabbles I've written. Organized by chapters, individually rated at chapter heads.
1. Scars

Scars

Rating: K+

It happened a_ long_ time ago, when I was about a month old. It was my first time out of the house - my mom, Petra, was taking me and my sisters to visit the junkyard - and I did _try_ to stay with them, but, hey, I was a kitten, it was my first time outside, there were so many interesting things to look at... was it really my fault that I got sidetracked and lost sight of them? So, then, there I was, a month-old kitten alone in the middle of the city. I wasted no time in screaming my head off, let me tell you. I was afraid somebody was going to step on me or something. I mean, I was sitting on the sidewalk, I was _tiny_, people were walking by fast and not looking at their feet... I did stop them from stepping on me, yes, or I wouldn't be here. But then along came a great big Pollicle, _not_ on a leash, sniffing all over the place, and decided poor little me would be an interesting thing to chase. So he did. I learned how to climb _really_ fast - straight up the pant leg of some human, who screamed and tried to shake me off, and then the Pollicle got to him and jumped on him trying to get to me, and all three of us went over backwards. The human got up, swearing and trying to kick the dog, but the dog _picked me up_ in its mouth and started carrying me off. I stayed absolutely still, hoping it would lose interest. It went a little way and then put me down, and started scratching at me, trying to get me to move. That Pollicle must have been a stray, because it had the longest claws I've ever seen on a dog. It didn't do much damage with the first few scratches, but on the next, it got me right across the face. I screeched and scratched _it_ on the nose. It yelped and ran away, tail between its legs. I don't think it was expecting me to do that.

Then I felt the pain. Look, it wasn't really that bad, but I was a _kitten._ To me it felt awful. I thought I was going to pass out. I don't know what would have happened if Petra hadn't heard me when I yowled the first time. She arrived within a minute, but it felt like forever to me. She flipped out when she saw me - I was bleeding all over the place- and took me back to the house as fast as possible, where I did pass out. I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I had stopped bleeding and Petra and my sisters were watching me worriedly. Petra asked me if I was okay, and I said "My face hurts." She rolled her eyes and said "Of course it does, you've got a gigantic cut across it." Which I knew already, of course.

So it took a couple weeks for the thing to heal, and then I had a scar across my face which blended neatly into the patch over my eye. If it had been half an inch higher I'd have lost te eye, so I suppose it was pretty lucky it ended up where it is. Etcy and Electra thought I looked totally weird, but I sort of liked it, to tell the truth, and went around showing my big 'battle scar' of to anyone I could fine. Which they, of course, found rather funny.

Anyway. Yeah. That's how I got the scar. I did warn you it was a long story.

...Well, sort of a long story...Etcy said what? _No._ It has nothing to do with Macavity whatsoever. Sisters are just weird - oh, wait, no offense...No, I am not crossing my fingers behind my back. Jeez, Jemmie, what do you take me for?

...Oh? Well, that's all right then.

A/N: The thin line of brown across Pouncival's nose and right cheek is not a natural marking. Fur doesn't grow in a thin line across a cat's face like that. It's a scar. And you can believe or not believe him when he tells you that this is the way he got it.

Pouncival has apparently not really grasped what the return key is for. Sorry about that.


	2. New Arrivals

New Arrivals

Rating: K+

It was a dark and stormy night. ...No, I swear to Everlasting, it _was_ a dark and stormy night. I was about six months old, and at the junkyard with some other kittens, when it started pouring like you wouldn't believe. Jellylorum, who was on kitten duty - poor Jelly always got stuck on kitten duty - got us ('us' being me, Etcy, 'Lectra, and Jemmie - Mungo and Rumple were _supposed_ to be there, but they were off somewhere doing mischief as usual) under a little overhang-cave-type thing made out of the top of a van, and we all sat and watched the rain, which was torrential. Even Jelly said she'd never seen anything like it. It was storming, too - lightning and thunder all over. Even the humans, with their cars and trucks which were covered, weren't out. It was sort of cold, and since we were wet, we all huddled together for warmth. And I didn't _mean_ to bite Electra on the ear, but we were squished together and I couldn't breathe and... anyway. She got all huffy and said "Pouncival Carbucketty James!" like Mom does when she's upset, using all three non-secret names (which is stupid, I tell you, why do I have to get stuck with four names instead of three like any other cat?), and stomped off to a corner of the van top, where she squeaked and almost tripped over something. She looked at whatever it was, and said, in a weird voice, "Um, Jelly? Come and see this, please..." So we all went and looked, of course, and had about the same reaction as 'Lectra.

'This' was two tiny kittens, curled up together and shivering. One was black and white, and the other was pure white. Both of them looked equally cold and pathetic. "Oh, the poor things!" Jelly said. "Come on, kittens, let's warm them up." So we all gathered around, and tried to warm them up, minus any ear-biting. After a while, they stopped shivering, and the white one's eyes opened. She gasped when she saw us. "Who are you?" she said. "Don't hurt me or my brother, please!" I realized that she and her brother were about the same age as I was, only tiny and underfed.

"Ssh," Jelly said. "We won't hurt you. You and your brother are safe now." The white kitten blinked at her. "I hope so," she said, and closed her eyes again.

"Poor things," Jelly said. "I wonder what happened to them? We should get them to Munkustrap as soon as possible. I'm worried this other one might be sick." The black-and-white one didn't look very well, I could see. He was moving fitfully in Jelly's arms, and when I touched him, he was hotter than a kitten should be. "It's not raining quite so hard now," Etcy said. Jelly nodded. "All right, let's go."

We made our way to Munkustrap's humans' house, and snuck into the basement. Munkus was already there, luckily. "Who are these two?" he asked when he saw the kittens. "I don't know," Jelly said. "They were in the junkyard." Munkustrap looked at them. "All right, let's put them by the furnace, that'll keep them warm. Has either of them said anything?"

"Yes, the white one," Jelly said. "She said 'don't hurt me or my brother, please.' I wonder what the two of them've been through."

"Yes, indeed," Munkustrap said, staring at the kittens curled up by the furnace. "Hey, you," he said after a moment. "You can stop pretending to be asleep now." The white kitten blinked her eyes open. "Oh. Who are you? You look nicer than the others." (Jelly frowned at this.)

"I'm Munkustrap," Munkus said. "Have you heard of the Jellicle clan? I'm the... deputy of it." The white kitten blinked again. "Oh. I'm Victoria. Will you protect me from the other cats?" Munkustrap frowned. "What other cats?"

"Well," Victoria said, "there was the big orange one. Others too, but he was the worst. He kept me and my brother in his den and wouldn't let us go. He was called... Ma - something?"

Munkustrap's eyes widened. "Macavity? You were captives of _Macavity_?"

"Yes, that was his name," Victoria said. "He wanted my brother, really, because he's special. I'm not special. He just kept me to... make my brother do things." She sounded like she was trying not to cry. Munkustrap snarled at the air. "That bas - um, sorry. Go on, if you want to. How did you escape?"

Victoria swallowed. "One day, Macavity told my brother to do something he couldn't. He told him that he wasn't able to, but Macavity thought he was lying and hit me harder. That night, my brother made us escape. He said he wasn't staying any longer. We've been wandering the streets for... I don't know how long. And tonight it started to rain, and we were so cold... my brother tried to make the rain stop, but he couldn't. I think he tired himself out too much." She started to cry, really this time. Jelly hugged her, and she let herself be hugged. "Wait a minute," Munkustrap said. "How exactly did your brother *make you escape?*"

Victoria blinked at him. "He used his magic," she said. "My brother is magical. That's why Macavity wanted him."

We all stared at her. "He's _magical_?" Munkus said. "Are you sure he's not just... special in another way?"

"No," Victoria said. "He's magical."

"No way," Munkustrap breathed. "I've heard stories of magical cats, but I always thought they were just... stories. If this really is true..." He turned to look at the black-and-white kitten. "We'd better take care of that little cat."

It was three days before the black-and-white kitten woke up. We were all at the junkyard when it happened - we'd taken to carrying him around with us whenever we went anywhere so we'd know right away if he needed anything. But I don't think we were expecting him just then to open his eyes and say, surprisingly clearly, "Victoria?"

We all ran to him, of course - I was excited to see what a magical cat looked like awake - and surrounded him. He blinked at all of us, looking confused, scared, and rather angry. "Where's Victoria? Stay away from me!" Victoria, who had been staying with Jenny and Skimble (you should have heard that conversation: "Welcome home, Skimble, we've got two kittens to take care of and one of them's possibly magical. Also, they're currently occupying your bed." Our house was two blocks from the railway startion and I could still hear them arguing), rushed up to him and said "You're awake! It's okay, they're the Jellicle clan. They won't hurt us." The black-and-white kitten looked around at all of us. His eyes weren't blue like most kittens', but gold. "Are you sure, Vickie?" She nodded. "They've been taking care of me for the past three days." The black-and-white kitten pushed himself to his feet. "All right, if you say so." He looked at Munkustrap. It wasn't until later than I wondered exactly how he knew Munkus was the one in charge. "I'm Mistoffelees. Nice to meet you."

Over the next few months, it became pretty clear that Victoria hadn't been kidding about Mistoffelees being magic. He could do amazing stuff - appear and disappear, shoot fireballs, change fish into chicken. But I got the sense that underneath it all, he was just a kitten trying to be normal. When he played with the other kittens, he acted like one of us. But sometimes, he said things that I had a feeling were far beyond his years, though I didn't understand any of them. I'm not even sure _he_ understood all of them. He's still that way - kidlike sometimes, incredibly mature other times, and always protective of his sister. And you never, ever ask him what happened to him when he was with Macavity. I asked him once, and he went quiet and finally said "Pouncy, you really, really don't want to know." I think he tries to forget about it, mostly.

It's weird having a magical cat for a friend. You never know exactly how he's going to react to things. Once, before he adopted his humans, when he was still living with Jenny and Skimble, he and Skimble got into a big fight and he went off to live at - Everlasting knows why - Tugger's for a few weeks. After that, he was very happy to come back to Skimble. Their relationship is somewhat weird, not exactly father-son, more like big and little brothers. Misto and Vickie's first Ball was six months ago - they're around two now, same as me. I'm used to having them around now, but I don't think I'm ever going to forget the first time I saw them, two monochromatic balls of fur curled up in a van top on a wet and windy night. 

A/N: The second of a pair of stories from Pouncival's viewpoint (the first was Scars). I rather liked his style of writing.


	3. Me and Her

Me and Her (And)

Rating: K

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer...we're always a duo. Whenever you hear my name, it's always followed by hers. We're Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Always the _and_. I wonder if anyone ever thinks about me as my own person, without the _and_. They do with her, I know. I wonder why her and not me. They like her. But me, I'm just the male twin. It's almost as bad as with Coric and Tanto. But they're practically one cat with two bodies. Rumple an' I are different.

I love my sister, don't get me wrong. She's the only one who _does_ see we're different. But I do wonder an awful lot about what it would be like if I was just Mungojerrie, without the _and_.

I've seen some of the toms looking at Rumple, and I guess I'm happy for her–she's old enough now, and it doesn't need to be said that she's independent. But I wonder if any of the kittens think about me. It would be weird to let another cat into our operation, if-when, I guess-we do get mates, but it would be an opportunity to lose the _and_. It's not that I hate the _and_ in itself, it's fine to be part of the duo, I like it in fact. I just wish it weren't so...er...all-encompassing. I'm Mungojerrie_and_. I wonder if Rumple feels the same way... _and_Rumpleteazer. And, and, and. The humans can't even tell us apart, which is useful most of the time, but really awful insulting, if you think about it.

Ah, well. Maybe I can get Rumple to go visit Mum or something this fall...but for now, I guess I'll just have to live with the _and_. 

A/N: Mungojerrie doesn't get _nearly_ enough individual attention. In fact, he more or less disappears whenever he's not being talked about as part of the duo. I thought he deserved a little something to himself.


	4. Evil

Evil

Rating: K+

"Weirdo!"

"Lightning-face!"

"Crybaby!"

He turned and ran away from the other young cats, not stopping until he couldn't hear their jeers anymore. All he had done was try to join in their play. Why did they all hate him?

He curled up in a ball, tears soaking into his red-and-white fur. Why was he so different? Why couldn't he just be normal? It had always been like this, from when he had first opened his eyes as a kitten.

It was all his father's fault, he knew. His father, who he'd never met, who had given his mother the beginnings of _him_ and then disappeared. That was where he'd gotten his markings and his magic. _Why do I have to be me?_

All the cats hated him because of what he looked like, what he could do. The young cats thought he was weird, and the older cats were afraid of him. Why? He knew that he wasn't normal. Couldn't they accept that? His mother was the only one who understood him, who realized that there was more to him than what he looked like and what he could do. She was his only friend.

He was two years old. His tomhood ceremony should have happened already, but it kept being delayed. They made excuses and said oh, soon, soon, but he knew it would never happen. They were never going to accept him like that. The cats his age or younger teased him about it, called him an overgrown kitten. His mother had told him to ignore them, but he couldn't. He hated them all. He didn't know how much longer he could live like this.

"Hey, Mac!" Someone was calling him. He looked up. A yellowish-white tom - Admetus, he thought it was? - was sitting on a pile of junk and watching him. "Crying again? Well, I've got some news for you that prolly won't help you any. Your mother-" his face fell for a moment "- is dead. A car ran her over. Too bad for you."

He blinked at the tom. "You - no. You're just messing with me." He leapt up and ran to the junkyard, ignoring the jeers of the other cats, and to Old Deuteronomy. "Is it true? Is my mother dead?"

Old D looked at him without blinking. "Yes."

His world fell apart, and he was floating with nothing to hold onto. He ran again, blindly, not caring where he went, tripping, stumbling, but getting away from there. Then he tripped over something hard and fell, facedown in the dirt.

"Well," a voice said, "if it isn't Mac again." He looked up, to see a young black-and-gold tom with a wild mane standing over him. "Heard the bad news, hm? I bet you don't care. Nobody loves you, and you don't love nobody. You know what this means, don't you? You're still a... kitten, and your mother's dead, so you're not a Jellicle anymore. Good riddance."

He pushed himself off the ground and grabbed the other cat by the mane, forcing their faces together. He realized that he was actually bigger and older than his former tormentor. "First of all, Tugger," he hissed, "my name is _not_ Mac. Second, it's _you don't love anybody_, not _you don't love nobody._ Third, you think I _want_ to be a Jellicle? Because the answer," he spat, "is no." He pushed the younger tom up against a tire, ignoring his wide eyes and shocked mouth. "You all hate me anyway, so you know what? I'm not going to bother to try to fit anymore. You go back to the junkyard and tell them that Macavity is not going to be a good cat ay longer." He let go, letting Tugger slide to the ground, then turned his back and stalked off down an alley until he couldn't be seen anymore. 

A/N: I'm not so sure how I like this one. But I sympathize with Macavity quite a bit, in any case.


	5. The Jellicles

The Jellicles

Rating: K

Somewhere, under the light of the moon, there is a junkyard. Its exact location, geographically, is unclear. Some would say London, others New York or North Africa, Copenhagen, Japan. But the truth is that the junkyard is always a mile or two from where _you_ live. To the imagination, geography is a mere detail.

In that junkyard, cats dance. They are... cats. Some people imagine them as humans in cat form, or cats in human form. The truth is... well, the truth is in the eye of the beholder. One sees what one expects to see.

The dimension that they inhabit is not precisely this one. It is the Other dimension, inhabited by cats, faeries, and possibly the people who stay up too late because they feel like it. In that dimension, everything is... casual. Its denizens have not a care in the world, at least not from the outside. It is the dimension that all of us secretly wish we could live in too. What we don't realize is that our dimension overlaps with the Other one. It's hard to tell whether those cats are truly cats or whether they're partly human. Maybe the answer is 'both'.

The cats are immortal, at least by our standards. In their world, there is no such thing as time. Life is endless. There are no tragedies, only adventures. They live off our imaginations. and we feed them by thinking about them. They couldn't exist without us, and we, in a way, couldn't exist without them.

They are the Jellicles. They are you. They are me. They are the part of humans which is still wild and free. They are all of us.


	6. Pivot

Pivot

Rating: K+

We were getting back from one of our rovings when it happened. Sauntering along the street, bag full of loot, pretty happy... and all of a sudden a big black tom dropped out of nowhere, right in our way. I started t'ask him what the heck he was doing, but Mungo stopped me. "Hey, Silvius," he said. "Long time no see. Rumple, remember Silvius?"

I did, sorta. He was one of Macavity's cats, who'd tried to get Mungo an' I to stay with Maca when we'd tried him out a while ago. I hadn't liked him much then, and I didn't know. This was starting to feel bad.

"Hey, Mungo, Rumple." Silvius grinned at us. It wasn't at all friendly. "Macavity sent me to have a little talk to you. He don't like it when cats just leaves him. Gives people the wrong idea, like." He was still blocking out way. I glanced back the way we'd come. There was another cat a ways back there. He was watching us, too. I tugged on Mungo's arm, and nodded at the cat. He frowned. "Now, c'mon, Sil. Maca did say we could just try it out. Let us go home. He tried to walk around Silvius, but the black cat grabbed his arm. "Uh-uh. Not so fast. When Macavity sends me to do a job, I does it."

I swallowed. "Leave 'im _alone._" Silvius glanced over at me. "Stay out of this, girlie. I might leave ya alive, 'cause I don't like hurtin' girls, but don't push your luck. Maca told me to take care of you two. Killin's not the only thing I can do." Mungo had gone pale. He knew what Silvius meant. Or maybe his arm was hurting. Maca's agent was twisting it so hard I was hurting in sympathy. I looked around for help. Nobody but the other cat, who was strolling slowly toward us. It was a ginger.

"All right, time to get down to business." Silvius unsheathed his claws. I stared, unable t'look awak. Mungo moved to push him with his free hand, but the other cat casually tripped him up, still holding his arm. _His_ free hand came around, claws outstretched, and ripped open a big piece of Mungo's belly.

I went crazy then. I dived for Silvius, but he came up to meet me and grabbed me around the neck. I struggled, and kneed him between the legs. He let go then. I looked up, heart beating fast.

The ginger cat had arrived, and somehow managed to pick up two friends on the way. He was watching with interest. "Very nice. You weren't expecting that, hm, Silvius? Never underestimate the power of a queen. Or a knee." He chuckled. "I may have to deal with this myself."

The blood was pounding in my head. Mungo was still alive, judging from the curses coming from behind me. Only me between him and Macavity. _This is real. I'm the pivot here._

"Don't touch him," I snarled.

"Oh, _I _won't," Macavity said mildly. "Why deal with something yourself when you've got others to do the sweating for you?" He chuckled again. "Or the hurting. I _am_ impressed. _Get them, boys._"

The change in tone was so sudden I had almost no time to react. But I did manage to dodge the one cat coming at me, ducking underneath him and grabbing the other one as he went for Mungo. _Don't worry about if you hurt. Keep them away from Mungo._ I bit the cat I'd grabbed hard on the ear, and tasted blood as I turned to the other one, who'd picked himself up and was launching himself at me again. From there on, it was all a blur of movement, scratching, dodging, biting, dodging, grabbing... I remember Maca, leaning against a wall and watching like he was at a play.

I managed to get one of the cats around the waist, grab his tail, and pull hard. He staggered... where was the other cat? I must've been bleeding in twenty places. _Don't let them get Mungo!_ I wasn't thinking ahead. I just had to keep fighting.

The other cat was over Mungo. I threw myself at him, grabbed onto him... he flipped in the air, came down hard, and we rolled, scratching and biting at each other. "Leave him _alone,_ I hissed into his ear. "Shut up," he grunted, and managed to get on top of me, pinning me down. I tried to scratch at his eyes, but then the other cat was there too, holding my arms. "Oh, yeah, needs the two of you just to get poor little me," I snarled. _This is where it all ends... and then they get Jerrie. _I kicked the belly of the cat on top of me. He relaxed his grip slightly, the wind knocked out of him, and I -

"Stop, the three of you," Macavity's voice said from somewhere outside the sphere of the fight. "Get off her."

The two cats were shocked, I could tell. "What d'you -" one of them started. "I did give you an order just then," Macavity said quietly. They got off me, still holding my arms.

"No, let go," Maca said. He had a strange expression on his face. "I think they've learned their lesson sufficiently." He stopped. "I had a sister once," he said in my general direction. "She never fought for _me._"

Then he shook his head, recovering. "Anyhow. Enough. Come on." He walked away, down the street, and the other cats followed, Silvius included. I never saw the black tom again. 

A/N: Sisterly love... don'tcha love it...

I don't even remember _why_ I wrote this in the first place. But written it was, for some reason, so here it is.


	7. Tea Parties

Tea Parties

Rating: K

The table was set for five, cups and saucers carefully placed in front of the chairs, lacy table cloth spread daintily, the sugar bowl, teapot, and plate of muffins artfully aranged in the center. The occupants of the table, who numbered two at the moment, sat and admired the display.

They were a china doll in a lacy dress which rather resembled the table cloth, and an old teddy bear.

Effie Harrington stood back and surveyed her handiwork. "It does look nice, doesn't it, Dolly, Teddy?" she inquired of her tea-party guests. "You just wait there for a moment, and I shall be back." With a five-year-old smile, she slipped out of the nursury and headed down the wide oak stairs, with the air of one who knows exactly where she is going.

She did, indeed. She had heard Nancy opening the door for the cat fifteen minutes earlier, with the usual accompaniments of shouting and 'drat that cat!,' and she knew that once she found one cat, she could always locate the other.

She went out into the garden, following the white gravel pathway and nodding hello to the gardener, who replied with a "Hello, Miss Effie," before going back to pruning the roses.

"Excuse me," Effie asked him, "but have you seen either of the cats coming this way? I'm having a tea party, you know - I do every week - and they must come." The gardener looked around again, examined the serious little face, and grinned. "Well, I think I saw one of them going thataway a few minutes ago." He pointed. "Don't know which one it was, though. Beats me how you can tell 'em apart."

Effie went in the specified direction, and soon spotted orange-and-black fur sleeping in the sun under a rhododendron. She crawled in next to the cat. "Mungo, sleepyhead! Wake up!"

One orange-yellow eye opened and regarded her. "Oh, hullo, Effie. Wot is it?"

"It's time for my tea party! Do you know where Rumple is?"

Mungojerrie yawned and stretched. "No, but let's go look." They strolled back to the house, and searched all over before they finally located Rumpleteazer in the library. She was curled up in a chair, reading a book, but looked up when they came. "Oo, is it tea party time?" She carefully folded the corner of the page she was reading over, and closed the book. Effie giggled. "Oh, Rumple, you know you shouldn't!" Rumple hung her head in mock remorse. Effie's face turned serious. "But Papa will blame me for it, you know."

Rumpleteazer grinned. "No, 'e won't. Watch." She clamped the slim volume between her teeth, then leaped to the back of the chair, and from there to the fifth shelf up on the bookcase, out of any possibility of Effie reaching it, where she replaced the book between _A History Of England_ and _Collected Poems vol. VII._ "There, see? Now your dad'll think George did it." She grinned, and Effie giggled again. "Oh, Rumple. You _are_ so bad."

"Not any worse'n Mungo," Rumpleteazer protested, and ducked as Mungojerrie pretended to cuff her. "'Ey!"

"Come on, you two, stop fighting," Effie ordered, and Mungo saluted her. "Yes, ma'am!" They went up to the nursery, the two cats politely trailing after their 'hostess,' and: "Wow," Rumpleteazer said admiringly. "It looks nice as usual, Effie. An' I see you even got muffins!" She lowered herself into a chair, and helped herself to one of the aforesaid foodstuffs. Mungojerrie started to follow her example, but Effie smacked his hand away. "Mungo! Wait for the others!" The tomcat obliged, and Effie poured tea for them all and then sat down herself. "All right, we may begin." She adjusted her 'hostess' face.

Mungo took a sip of tea, little finger daintily crooked. "Lovely tea, don't y'say, Teddy?" Rumpleteazer manipulated the teddy bear's head so it nodded. "Ho, yes, indeed, Mister Mungojerrie!" Then she let go of the bear, and asked, in her normal voice, "Did y'make it with Nancy, Effie?"

"Yes." Effie smiled. "And I asked her for the muffins, because she was making some to take round to old Mr. Johnson. She said I could have the funny-shaped ones. I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, 's all right, they taste the same anyway." Rumple finished her second muffin, and wiped her mouth with an embroidered napkin. "More tea, Effie?"

The door opened, and Effie's mother, Mrs. Harrington, swept in. "Euphemia-" she started, and then stopped as she saw the little table and its occupants. "_Euphemia Harrington!_ What have I told you about having tea parties with those horrible cats? _And_ with china cups and plates! Miss Low tells me that there were _three cups_ broken last time!"

"Oh, that wasn't their fault," Effie said earnestly. "They'd never mean to do anything like that, Mamma. Would you, Mungo, Rumple?"

"Of course not," Mungojerrie said, grinning. "We'd never mean t'do anything like that, Mrs. Harrington." Mrs. Harrington took not notice. She never did. Mungo winked at Rumple behind Effie's back.

"Mean it or not, things still get broken!" Mrs. Harrington snapped, but softened somewhat when she saw Effie's expression. "All right, you may ask Miss Low to give you some of the tin cups and plates from the kitchen. But I will expct you to remember this next time." She turned to go out again, and Mungojerrie thumbed his nose at her. Effie covered her mouth until her mother had left the room, and then all three collapsed in giggles.

"Well, I suppose I had better go and get some cups from Nancy," Effie said regretfully, when they had finished gasping for breath. Mungojerrie leaned back in his chair and took a bite of muffin. "Oh, don't do that. We _promise_ not t'break anything, don't we, Rumple?"

"'Course." Rumpleteazer grinned. "An' besides," Mungo went on, "this's such good tea, it's a shame t'have it with anything other'n china. Even if the muffins're funny-shaped."

"All right," Effie agreed. "But you really mustn't break anything, or Mamma will be furious."

Rumple nodded. "That's not good f'r anyone." She put her teacup down carefully. She was enjoying herself, as she did every week, and she knew Mungo was too. Effie was the only one in the household who really liked the cats - the rest of the family tolerated them for most of the time, and the servants didn't really mind them, but everyone knew that if it wasn't for Effie, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer would have found a new home by now (possibly, if the move took place during an angry moment, at the bottom of the river). Her sister Cynthia had brought them home a few years ago, when she had been fifteen and won over by the cute pair of matching kittens, but after a few incidents in the pantry and Cynthia's bedroom, they had been hastily handed over to Effie, who loved them no matter how naughty they were (or maybe _because_ they were naughty). And it was she who had named them. Or at least that was what the family always told visitors. "Children have such amazing imaginations, don't they?" her father would say. "You would expect her to call them Kitty and Tiger or something, but no, she thought up Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Very inventive." And no one ever listened to Effie when she said that she hadn't made up the cats' names at all, they had simply introduced themselves to her. That was another thing: nobody else could understand the cats. Effie was amazed at this. And they couldn't see what they really looked like, either. People were always amazed that she could tell them apart. "How do you do it?" they would ask. To which he would respond, "Oh, it is easy. Mungo is the boy, and Rumple is a girl," And when they said, "Yes, but how can you _tell_ that one is a boy and the other is a girl, just like that?," she said "I just look at them," and they decided not to take the discussion any farther. But she _could_ tell them apart, even from a distance. There was no doubt about that.

She had been smacked before for imitating the cats, their manners and their accents. Growing up in a very proper household, the casualness and delicious badness of the burglar twins was delightful. Effie's mother simply couldn't understand _where_ she had picked up the Cockney accent she started using one night at dinner. It wasn't like she had ever had any exposure to _that_ kind of company. But when they asked her where she'd heard that way of speaking and she'd answered simply, "Mungo an' Rumple talk like this," she'd been admonished for having an overactive imagination, told never to talk like that again, and it had remained a mystery.

And that was the state things had stayed in, more or less. The cats were Effie's closest friends, and they liked talking to her. She didn't know where they went at night, about Old Deuteronomy or Macavity, and they never made any attempt to tell her. They knew she was only five, after all. She liked them as Mungo and Rumple, and that was all.

By now, the muffins had been finished and the last drop of tea drunk. Effie cleared away the china, and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer got up to go back to what they had ben doing. Effie stopped them in the doorway. "I will have another party a week from today. I expect you two to be there!" She looked at them fiercely.

"Oh, we _will,_" Mungojerrie said. "I promise."

"Me too," said Rumpleteazer. And then they went out. 

A/N: This was originally going to be a twoshot with a bit more of a plot, but... I get distracted easily, and it ended up staying like this. I think it works okay as a vignette too.


	8. The Beginning

The Beginning

Rating: K+

Let us consider the scene that is about to take place from the point of view of the river...

The river flows along, quickly in spring but slower now that it is almost summer. It flows past villages and towns, past small cities, and through The city. It slows down here, as if it is in no hurry to rush by and wants to see the sights on the way. It flows past large, fancy houses and slums, past churches and jails. It passes under a bridge, and another. It flows past a dock.

There is a splash as something is thrown into the river. The waters close over it.

Let us follow the sack as it sinks... it is a small sack, made of burlap, and tied around the neck with a piece of old string. It moves as it sinks, as if things inside it were struggling, and emits muffled mewling noises. It behaves, in fact, exactly as if the contents of the bag were a litter of kittens and a brick, which is an amazing coincidence since, actually, this is exactly what they are.

When the sack is ten feet down, the struggling causes the flimsy string to break...

Let us return to the surface of the river. It continues to flow lazily on, uninterrupted, for a few seconds, and then a kitten's head breaks the surface, yowling and spitting out water. Few people know this, but cats _can_ swim. They just hate to do it.

This kitten, however, seemed to realize that she had no alternative. So she catpaddled, until a slightly larger head came up next to her. "Mow?" she asked.

"Rroww," the larger head said sadly. They waited for a little while, just in case he was wrong, but no other kittens appeared. So they struck out for shore. The man who had thrown the sack in was gone by now, but all the river was at least five feet down from the top of the river wall, which was vertical stone. And the river flowed, perhaps lazily, but quickly enough to carry two small kittens along. The two heads yowled at the top of their little heads.

Eventually, a bridge came into view, with a small accretion of gravel around the sides. The kittens swam toward it, and pulled themselves out onto the tiny "riverbank". The smaller kitten shook herself like a dog, and ten say down and began to wash herself - she knew how to do that, though her eyes had only opened a few days before. But her brother had something else in mind. He nudged her. "Mrr."

There was a set of stairs by the bridge, leading up to the street. They were big for kittens to climb, but these two managed. They stood at the top of the stairs, looking out at the busy street, and the larger kitten said: "Meek."

So they walked along the edge of the river wall, not sure where they were going but definitely being very definite about it. Occasionally some bored newsboy threw a stone at them, or a child chased them squealing "Kitty!", but they were lucky and eluded these threats. They were less lucky when a big mongrel dog crossed their path, and began barking and jumping up at them. They hissed at it and fluffed themselves up, looking like pompoms with tails and legs. Then the dog jumped at them again, snapping, and they jumped off the river wall and ran, dodging the traffic, through the legs of pedestrians, across the road. The dog tried to follow them, and was knocked over by a car. Yelping, it retreated.

"Mr?" said the larger kitten, which means "What now?" in kitten-speak. But his sister wasn't listening, distracted by the sparrows fluttering and pecking on the sidewalk. She tucked herself into a hunting crouch, tiny tail lashing back and forth, and began to stalk forward. But she grew impatient and pounced too soon, and the birds scattered, untouched. The kitten flattened her ears, kitten-speak for "Drat."

"Next time," her brother assured her. She switched her tail and stalked off, kitten-speak for "Humph."

The larger kitten yawned. "Mrrh?" he suggested. His sister cat-shrugged. The conversation would have gone farther, but a four-year-old passing by saw them and shouted "Kitty!", grabbing for them. So they ran again, and didn't stop until they found an alley, were they took refuge. There were piles of garbage there, and a few trash bins, and mice. The smaller kitten's tail switched again. Her brother was sniffing around a pile of refuse, and it looked like he'd found something to eat. She joined him, and together they had leftover fish and stale bread. It wasn't bad.

They spent the rest of the day in that alley, and when night came, they curled up with each other and slept on top of a pile of painting rags. And if it hadn't been for the drunk, the suitcase, and the railway station, they might never have left. And if that had happened, things would have turned out very differently indeed for Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. 

A/N: This was originally going to be the start of a longer story, but I'll let you in on something: I abandon stories halfway through more often than not. So this is all you get of this.

Yes, reference to Skimbleshanks at the end there. It's my belief that Mungo and Rumple are either his and Jennyanydots' kittens or were adopted by them.


End file.
